


A Canvas of a Thousand Colours

by talonyth



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Merfolk AU, hearts are palpitating, i'll add tags as they are necessary, sharks are eaten, you know the usual merfolk stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-10 12:19:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14736860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talonyth/pseuds/talonyth
Summary: Akira is a free spirit, a visionary, a dreamer - an outlaw, so to say because it sounds more intimidating. It's not wrong, either. Sirens have to keep away from humans, at all costs.Too bad Akira couldn't care less about rules and more about satiating his curiosity about a certain artist who always seems to be by himself.





	1. A Nosy Merman

**Author's Note:**

> hi did you miss me and my irregular updates 
> 
> this isn't going to be very long, i just had a need for merfolk akira being in love with yusuke but we will see where the waves guide me

The sea was raging that afternoon, no one in sight at the beach. It was Yusuke’s favourite part of the beach, a small bay with a cave by the end of it. People kept away from it for fear of monsters - Yusuke was never sure what they meant. What kind of monsters? Animals? Perhaps sharks. But he couldn’t remember ever hearing anything about sharks at this beach. Then again, he had never entered the cave either so he was not the best judge.

It was chilly when he sat down, sand already creeping into his clothes. More often than not lately, Yusuke had trouble shaking the sand out of his clothes. At some point, it would probably occupy a part of his room. Just a small hill of sand in the corner, away from paint and canvases.   
What a silly thought. As if he could have a speck of comfort in that place.

\----

“Do you think he will be there again?” 

Haru folded her tail beneath herself to sit more comfortably. Akira never understood how she managed to look so dignified. Whenever he tried, he either slipped back into the water or found another way to make a fool of himself. 

“I don’t know,” he answered, bracing his arms on the lower part of the rock. He looked up at Haru. “But it would be kind of great. He’s so beautiful…”

“You would think they say that about us,” she chuckled. 

“Well, we don’t know if they don’t. We do hide away after all. ...It’s kind of boring, isn’t it?”

Haru didn’t say anything but she smiled in the same way she always did when she agreed but couldn’t outright say it. It was hard being the duchess for a tribe of idiots who were scared of their own tails. 

“Are you thinking of revealing yourself?”

“No,” Akira said. Haru didn’t take her eyes off him, same smile on her lips. “Alright, maybe. But come on, he is always alone. Besides, he is an artist. We’ve seen those kinds of humans before, remember?”

“Oh, right. When you tried to steal one work and it ended up dissipating because they are not made for water.”

Akira huffed. Some friend she was. 

“Don’t be mad at me. I… simply don’t believe it would be wise yet.”

Yet. Akira grinned. He knew what that meant. Their code worked perfectly. 

\---

Yusuke looked at his drawing and sighed. It turned out fine. He could paint it later. There was no question about it. And he would. He had to. Not just for himself. He had to. 

He clutched onto the page and the edges wrinkled so pleasantly. It didn’t matter what he had to do or not. This wasn’t home. If this drawing never existed, he would never have to paint it. It would never have to leave his room and hang in a gallery with a different title under a different name. 

Yusuke uncurled his fingers. Smoothed out the wrinkles. And then, he took a deep breath. 

What was taken away by the wind, belonged to nature. 

What never existed in his hands, couldn’t be stolen.   
\---  
Akira popped his head out of the water. Of course no one was sitting at the beach. It was cold and it was windy and humans were apparently fragile enough to avoid storms at all costs. 

Cowards. 

It was still sad to see the beach so abandoned. Other than the entirety of his tribe - excluding Haru - he actually enjoyed the presence of humans near their homes. Sure, the nets and the hooks they sometimes threw into the water were awful but only fools got caught up in them. It only happened once to Akira and it had ended in a good meal. Humans were not only entertaining but tasty too. It was all a matter of keeping a positive attitude. Their kind wasn’t as skilled at that as they were at actively avoiding having fun. 

‘Oh, Akira, I told you you shouldn’t have done that yet,’ he already heard Haru say in his mind. ‘It’s too early for that yet.’

Lucky her that no one was around. Humans often left things behind in the sand, sometimes pretty, sometimes ugly and sometimes indescribable, but always worth picking up and bringing back home. He could still throw it at Haru’s fiancé if he hated it. Something sharp would be nice for that. 

The waves did their best to push him right into slick sand where he got stuck. Disgraceful. Akira couldn’t fathom how Haru did this without looking like an idiot. How she did anything at the surface without looking like a dying fish. He shook his head and braced himself up onto his arms, looking around.   
For once, it looked as though no one lost a thing - or if they did it was too far from the water. Akira did that once. He never wanted to have dry sand against his palms ever again. It was the worst feeling, sizzling hot and scratchy, absolutely disgusting - not to say, it scraped his skin open, and not in the good way.

But there was something stuck in the sand a little further into the land, something fluttering wildly along with the wind as if it tried to get out of where it was buried. Akira looked around again. Didn’t seem like anyone was peeking on him so he scooted towards the fluttering object and scrunched his nose at the sheer amount of sand that had already latched onto his hands and his tail. 

Curiosity was, unfortunately, always stronger than his sense of self-preservation. _Always._

Akira reached out and grabbed what turned out to be a piece of paper. He had seen these kinds of things. They had places drawn on it or sometimes words he couldn’t read, sometimes it was all kinds of lines with a big cross on it. The one he unfurled was something calmer but oddly disheartening. The lines looked like there was a hurry to draw this, some very thin, others very thick. 

“I… think that belongs to me,” a voice sounded from behind Akira and he froze. 

_No one had been here._ How in the world did he miss hearing someone approach? 

“I found it, so… I guess it belongs to _me_ now,” he hissed back but he couldn’t quite hide what he was unless he tried to bury into the sand - which he absolutely refused to even consider. It was too late now anyway. 

“Oh. Well…”

Akira didn’t turn around. The voice he heard was so unlike any siren voice. It was much more soothing and calm, almost a little too quiet to be heard. So humans could sound like this too. 

“That’s alright, then.”

Akira’s head snapped around. He thought he hadn’t heard right at first. Also, wasn’t this person going to say anything at all? He couldn’t have seen a siren before. Probably. So why wasn’t he surprised? Amazed? Scared? _Anything?_

It was then that Akira realized he knew this person. He recognized him. It was the artist that always sat by himself, far off the popular places at the beach where the water was warm and frankly, quite dirty. Humans didn’t seem to mind that much though. 

“You give up so easily?” Akira asked. “I mean, you made this, right?”

The artist shuffled his feet and crossed one arm over his chest to bunch his hands together. It looked so weird, Akira had no idea why humans would ever do that. It didn’t take anything from the artist’s beauty though. Akira was tired of seeing dolled up sirens trying to be pretty when they were just a bunch of scary, teethy deep sea creatures with a preference for mammal meat. Sharks were gone from these waters because of them and that was a damn shame because they were the nicer neighbours. And eventually snacks. 

Ah well. 

“Yes, but… I did leave it behind. So you can have it, if you want to.” 

“Then why did you come back for it? You didn’t have to point out this was yours if you didn’t want it back,” Akira replied. It was not really fair, he reckoned. The artist seemed a little crestfallen and Akira had enough honour not to stab what was already hurt. Usually. 

“I…” He paused. “I suppose you are right.”

Akira held the piece of paper out. It drove him crazy that this guy didn’t have the decency to show a little bit of interest in what he was so he pointedly curled his tail along with his body when he turned. “Here. Take it.”

The artist looked at him, eyes fixed on… his _eyes_. He held eye contact which was terrible enough because Akira had never seen a pair of deep blue eyes like that before but there also seemed to be no focus on his being in its entirety at all. He was torn between being awestruck and feeling mildly offended.

“It’s alright. You were right that I came back for it but now I think you should keep it.”

“You’re awfully unaware of what I am or you are willingly ignore it but fine, if you really want to know, I am living underwater and I think this,” he spread the paper between his fingers, “would just dissolve if I take it with me. I was just kidding before. Humans just never come back for their stuff so I never have to give it back.” 

“I see.” The artist grasped the piece of paper and held onto it, eyes wandering over the lines drawn on it before he looked back up again. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. That’s what you say, right?”

The artist nodded and then, he finally _finally_ acknowledged the existence of Akira’s tail, eyes following its movement slowly. “...You are a mermaid.”

“A siren.”

“Oh, yes, sorry. I was not sure when to bring this up…”

As if he had to tell Akira that he was a siren, an inhabitant of the sea. Adorable. “Any time is a good time to be a little curious. Look at me, that’s why I am wristdeep in sand right now.”

“Is that… bad?”

“Not as much bad as really uncomfortable. Do you know how dry sand sticks between your scales?”

“No,” the artist replied, and Akira believed he couldn’t be more amazed at the fact that he _actually replied to that question._ “Is there a difference between wet and dry sand?”

“Are you serious right now?”

The artist didn’t seem to have been joking. He just looked at Akira curiously. Ah, there it was. Finally. 

“Wet sand is disgusting at the surface. I’m heavy so I always sink in easily but at least it’s more massive. Try to get dry sand from beneath your claws, and teeth and scales. Not even water washes it away.” 

“Ah. That’s true. I don’t know about claws and teeth and scales but it is hard to wash it off and get it out of my clothes.”

“See.”

There was a pause which gave Akira the time to memorize the features of the artist’s face. He was quite pale, pretty thin - he looked tired as if he hadn’t slept for a while. Or at least not well. But his hair and his eyes, his posture so straight and elegant… Akira held his hand out. 

“My name is Akira,” he said and smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. That’s also something you humans say, right?”

“I suppose so,” the artist replied and grasped his hand. It was cold and it wasn’t as soft as it had looked like but it fit perfectly into Akira’s. That was a great feeling. “I am Yusuke. What do sirens say when they first meet?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. We are just a bunch of savages, we usually just grunt our names and get it over with.” 

Yusuke’s eyes widened in surprise. He was so gullible. “Really?”

Akira laughed. “No, of course not. We usually meet the first time for hunts so it would have been something like… I am Akira, let’s have a rich hunt.”

Yusuke nodded, and his lips curled into a smile. “Let’s have a rich hunt, then.”

Akira squeezed Yusuke’s hand and he swore his heart skipped a beat. That wasn’t good, objectively speaking, but when had sticking to the rules ever felt good for Akira? 

Exactly.

Never.


	2. The Seething Artist

“That is rare,” Madarame said, his voice laced with a tone Yusuke couldn’t categorize. It became harder and harder lately. To discern. To care at all. No matter how Madarame spoke, in the end, it was always the same thing he wanted. “Since when have you started painting human subjects?”

“I wanted to try something else,” Yusuke replied. Wasn’t it sufficient? “Is it not to your liking?”

“Oh, far from that, Yusuke.” Madarame smiled and traced the canvas, wrinkled fingers brushing over dried black paint. Yusuke withheld from moving. Such a tender touch to the painted tail of the merman he met. 

Akira. 

Akira with strong words and a sniding tone but with an equally dazzling grin and eyes in the deepest of red.

“This is stunning. I had assumed you simply disliked painting human subjects - to each artist their own preference, after all. I suppose it is not entirely human, though,” Madarame laughed.

Yusuke bit his tongue. He hated these feelings that started stirring in him as of late. The way he couldn’t quite agree with Madarame anymore - the one person he admired and loved. The way his skin crawled whenever he heard praise because he knew it only meant that piece was the next to be taken. 

It was all for a greater cause, Madarame always told him. He shouldn’t fret - after all, an artist’s life was harsh without fame. It made sense, and Yusuke wasn’t fool enough not to understand the notion that his paintings would never get the same recognition, were they shown under his own name. It was hard to get established in the world of art. And one day, Madarame announced, one day Yusuke could feed off Madarame’s fame and make a name for himself. 

It sounded logical. 

It didn’t mean Yusuke liked it. 

He had to place faith in Madarame’s words but… which other student of his had achieved that goal? They all had had the same conditions. They all had heard the same promises. 

They all eventually left with broken hearts. 

“I found it hard to draw people when I thought of Sayuri,” Yusuke admitted, “This isn’t my first attempt but all others were not worth showing.”

“I see,” Madarame nodded. “If you ask me, you have to believe in yourself more, Yusuke.” 

And there it was. 

“You are a gifted artist of a talent I haven’t seen in my many years alive. From such an early age onwards, you painted works some adult artists could still dream of. You shouldn’t discredit your work like that. Comparing yourself to someone else - that is bound to break your spirit in long term. Focus on what you want to express. After all, that is what artists do.”

Whatever doubt Yusuke had, it was impossible to hold onto it when he heard those words. Madarame had no reason to praise him as he did if he truly didn’t matter at all beside his works. Yusuke had to repay him. Not only for his own sake. 

There was no one else who cared for him the way Madarame did. 

“Remember: Sayuri was a piece I had painted after years of experience. And each sketch brings you closer to the goal you want to achieve.”

Yusuke nodded. “Right. I am sorry, I should not have been so negative…”

Madarame chuckled and grabbed the painting, thumbs rubbing over the sides of the canvas. He gazed at it with a smile, a sigh of relief escaping him. Yusuke held onto his wrist, hand twitching to reach out. To take it from Madarame. 

When had he become so selfish?

“This is truly beautiful.”

“But it is not entirely finished yet,” he said hurriedly. It slipped. “There... are still some adjustments I wanted to make.”

“Oh?”

When had he become a liar, too? “Just details. I will bring it to you once it is done,” he said, fingers tightening around his wrist. 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you from feeling that you have created the ideal work,” Madarame laughed. He placed the canvas back on the easel and buried his hands in his sleeves. “I will be out until tomorrow. I have some preparations to make for this wonderful piece. It should get the proper recognition, after all, no?”

Yusuke’s fingers ached, nails burying into his skin. “Right. Thank you, Sensei.”

“But of course.” 

Madarame left. He closed the door. 

Yusuke had to make this painting disappear.

\---

“You want _me_ to keep this?”

Akira stared at Yusuke, mouth agape. First of all, no one had ever painted him. Second of all, did he really look as gorgeous as Yusuke had depicted him? How come _no one_ had had the decency to tell him until now? 

Yusuke averted his eyes upon the question. “You said your kind keeps trinkets, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but… it’s usually trinkets that are… what do you call it when water doesn’t harm things?”

“Waterproof?”

“That, yes.”

Akira eyed the painting. He couldn’t remember posing for Yusuke. That’s what people did a lot of times at the beach. They posed, and then there was some kind of flash, and that was at about it. He didn’t know what they did but Haru told him it was so they would remember the moment. 

The moment they met? Was it so important to Yusuke? 

Then again, Akira was a siren. It was nothing humans should be so used to. That had to be special enough even if Akira would have liked it if it were, say, for his gorgeous tail or his incredibly witty tongue but he took any chance, really. 

“It’s alright if it fades eventually,” Yusuke said then, and buried his toes in the sand. “It would probably be better if it did.”

Akira hissed, arms wrapping around the painting. The offense burned in his chest. “How dare you say that? Don’t you see how beautiful I look like on this? I would never let it fade.”

Yusuke chuckled. “Then feel free to do as you like.”

Akira eyes Yusuke with suspicion. There was something wrong with this. With this whole situation. It wasn’t the first time Akira noticed that air of uncertainty about Yusuke even if it was technically only the second time they spoke. He had caught a glimpse of Yusuke sitting at the beach by himself again - this place was hardly ever visited even though it was the most ideal for some rest. Not too hot, not too warm, less sand than anywhere else and the cave closeby was the most comfortable place at the surface. 

Either way, Yusuke seemed smarter than other humans coming here. And it gave Akira the chance to always keep an eye out for him without the risk of being caught. 

“You know, you don’t look like you really want to give this to me,” Akira said and peeked at the painting again. The colours were crisp, the lines sharp. The black of his tail was as dark as it was in reality - not even light could pierce his scales. And Yusuke had remembered that. “Do you want to know what we do to sirens who are weak-willed and half-hearted?”

Yusuke looked up. He said nothing but curiosity glistened in his eyes. 

“We eat them.”

“You do?”

Akira took a moment to reply. It was a genuine question. An absolutely innocent question. How did Yusuke survive this long if he believed everything you told him? “No, of course we don’t. I was just trying to sound intimidating.”

“It didn’t work,” Yusuke said. 

“So you think it is okay to eat someone who is half-hearted? Is that why you are not intimidated?”  
Yusuke opened his mouth. Then he closed it again. He looked just like a little fish before being eaten.  
Akira realized belatedly he hadn’t eaten anything yet. 

“No, I… just assumed that if that is custom for you, then it’s not my place to judge.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you have a very weird way of looking at things?”

Yusuke shrugged. “I can’t remember. Weird is a word I have heard being said in regard to my person, though. Quite often. But it would be a mishap not to be weird. As an artist, I don’t think I would benefit from being not weird.”

Akira squinted. He tried to connect the dots but it was truly difficult to understand Yusuke in his entirety. Some things he said were arbitrary, others were said with clear intention but most of all, it seemed as if Yusuke disregarded himself more than not. He placed everything and everyone else first and himself second. Akira frowned. “I suppose so. It’s just that I’ve never seen a single human as relaxed as you are about… well, everything. It’s like you don’t get upset at all. I’m not used to that. Sirens get upset all the time. We are always angry. Kind of. Or hungry but that makes us angry. You know?”

“You don’t seem very angry to me right now,” Yusuke answered and he leant his cheek on his knees. He looked so much smaller than he was. 

“But I am. Because you are not angry at all. You can’t just give this to me even though I look like I am in the prime of my youth here,” Akira said and brushed his fingers over the paint. It felt odd but it had a soothing effect, smooth lines covered in equally smooth paint. He wanted to see how Yusuke painted.  
One day. 

“Did no one ever tell you that you are beautiful?” Yusuke asked, suddenly. 

Akira nearly dropped the painting but he tightened his grip on it before it could fall to the sand. “I-I mean, I know I am,” he replied, and he didn’t appreciate the stutter in his voice, “That’s what sirens are, of course, though between the two of us? There are actually fairly ugly sirens but they make themselves pretty. Me? I’m a natural.”

Yusuke smiled and nodded. “You are. When I saw you on that day, I felt compelled to draw you right away. But the drawing was not enough so I painted it. It was the first time in a while that I didn’t think how to paint at all. It simply happened.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

Yusuke stayed quiet. His eyes followed the trail of Akira’s tail along the sand as if they took in every scale and every dent. Slowly, slowly. 

“I suppose it is,” he eventually said. An entirely hollow set of words. Yusuke appeared to have realized it himself, shaking his head almost violently. “No, it truly is. Even though… in the end…”

He didn’t continue. And Akira didn’t push it. If he wanted to have a chance to talk to Yusuke again, he didn’t want to mess it up by being too forward. Now _that_ often got sirens killed. Being nosy and snoopy. (Which Akira was more often than not. Still not dead, though.)

“I’ll hold onto it, then,” Akira said and curled his arms back around the painting. “Haru can help me find a place that won’t make the paint fade. And if you want it back, then that’s tough luck, it’s mine now.”  
Yusuke smiled. “That’s alright.” He paused, fingers digging into the sand. “You never told me what sirens do with half-hearted ones of your kind.”

“Oh, well.” Akira leant his chin onto the painting and looked at Yusuke. His eyes were still of the most mesmerizing colour. Sirens were beautiful but even they couldn’t compete with that. It would almost be sad if it weren’t so gleeful. “We are all about strength. The weak don’t stand a chance in our tribes. It’s stupid though. Strength is defined by a lot of things, not just physical strength. At least that’s what I think but I guess I am lucky I am a quick hunter. Also, that I literally bore other tribe leaders with my talk so much that they end up giving me what I want. There are no half-hearted sirens. That’s what we do with them.”

“They disappear?”

“No, we turn them into strong sirens. And if it doesn’t work, then nature takes care of them.”

Yusuke said nothing. Maybe that was a little harsh. Haru told a lot of stories about humans and how soft they were. That was why she liked them. That was why Akira had decided to like them too. 

“Then what about thieves?”

Akira raised an eyebrow. That question was easy. “Thieves deserve death. You don’t take what belongs to someone else. It is especially grave if you steal from a siren what they made or hunted themselves. Effort means everything to us and to disrespect that effort leads to a swift death. ...Well, it’s not exactly swift but you see the point. That’s unforgivable.”

Yusuke’s eyes darted up. He held Akira’s gaze, beautiful, beautiful eyes stricken with an emotion Akira could finally name. 

Sirens were not the only ones who were always angry, it seemed. 

Maybe humans were, too. In a quiet, and almost more terrifying way than sirens were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess akira has somewhat of a grudge, huh, but wait until he hears about madarame. i wouldn't be surprised if he learns how to walk on his bare hands through the sand but well, we will wait and we will see. 
> 
> in the meantime, you can always chat with me about merfolk on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tobiyou)!

**Author's Note:**

> i wish i could say my obsession with merfolk aus is dying down now but it is burning brighter than ever
> 
> don't be shy and hmu on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/tobiyou)


End file.
